If I'd Known We Were Dating, I Would Have Baked a Cake
by HoldoutTrout
Summary: Regina is completely unaware that she's dating Emma Swan, even though Emma actually says the words "It's a date" pretty early on.


"I need a favor."

Regina refrained from sighing into her phone. "You need manners, Miss Swan."

"That, too, but I seriously need a favor. I'm supposed to pick up Henry at four today but I just got called out to the Lotsteins' place and won't be back in time."

"Is everything okay?" Regina asked. The Lotstein family lived out close to Zelena's farmhouse, and any news from there worried her.

"Oh! Oh, yeah. It's not Zelena. Well, she's the one who called me, but it's just about an abandoned car that's on the Lotsteins' side of the property line. I'm just going to check it out, run the plates, and then call Mike. Unless there's a dead body in the trunk or something."

There was a beat of silence and then Emma added, "I really hope I didn't just jinx myself. That's not a thing, right? I mean, a real thing?"

"No."

"Oh, good. So can you pick up Henry today? I'd just text him to go to the station and wait for me, but he needs to pick up craft supplies for some art project and I said I'd take him today because he kind of needs them tonight." Emma's tone rose sheepishly as she explained.

Regina sighed—again. "Yes, I'll pick him up and take him to the store for craft supplies for the project due tomorrow you both forgot about."

"Thank you," Emma said. "I'll owe you one."

"Have I not told you that you need to be more careful about that phrase?" Regina said, pinching her nose. She had, in fact, given Emma a whole lecture on favors and why it was good to avoid owing them to other magic users. She hoped Emma was more careful around other people, although the thought that Emma didn't feel the need to watch her tongue around her wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Fine," Emma said. "I'll owe you dinner. Oh! We can go to that new place on Second Street. It's supposed to be sort of like Thai, right?"

Regina said, "I suppose if you were to describe the entire South Faden culinary culture in the most simplistic terms possible, then yes, it's 'sort of like Thai.'"

"... Does that mean you don't want to go?"

Regina had, in fact, wanted to go since it opened, and Emma knew it. Marjorie, the owner and chef, had been part of her staff and had prepared several exquisite South Faden dishes for her on many occasions.

"No, it means that you should make reservations for Friday. I hear it's packed."

Emma laughed. "You're on," she said. "And really, thanks. I know I dropped the ball on this."

"I think Henry's old enough to take some of the blame," Regina said. "In fact, I think I'll tell him the next time something like this happens, he'll have to figure it out himself."

"Sounds good to me," Emma said. "And I'm here, so I'm going to go look at a hopefully very empty trunk, call a tow, and stop by for Henry before dinner. Bye!"

Regina checked the time. It was almost 3:30, so she decided to finish her current project and then head out. She picked Henry up and they went by the store for some craft foam, fabric, and a paintbrush and she delivered the whole, "your forgetfulness is not our problem" lecture she'd mentally composed on the way over, which he took pretty well.

She even got a subdued thank you and a hug before Henry took over the living room and started chipping foam flakes into her carpet, intent on making a replica of some abstract monstrosity. Henry had shown her a picture of the piece he was copying in miniature, and when she said it didn't look like anything to her, he'd sniffed and said, "It's _visceral_."

She had to remember to tell Emma about that one later.

She checked her phone but there was no news from Emma. Regina decided to make more than enough dinner for Henry, just in case—and then threw the remaining chicken breast in as well. She could always put the leftovers away for tomorrow if they didn't eat them tonight.

Emma showed up just as dinner was finished, hair wet and wearing sweats and a Sheriff's department T-shirt that looked like it had seen better days. "The trunk wasn't empty," she said, waving to Henry from the entry.

"Oh?"

Emma grinned. "It wasn't a dead body, thank god. Just about four hundred pounds of manure. Loose. I had to shovel the damn thing out to make sure it was _just_ manure and ended up covered in it from head to toe. That's why I'm so late—I had to take a shower afterward."

"Did you get a picture?" Henry asked, grinning..

"David did," Emma said. "It's probably already on Facebook. I threatened to fire him but he just laughed at me."

Henry took out his phone and started tapping.

Emma rolled her eyes at Regina but said, "It's a pretty funny picture—but it's a good thing you can't smell it."

"The shower is much appreciated," Regina said. "Do you have plans for dinner?"

Emma shrugged. "Nah. David and Snow said they already ate, and the kid has his project, so we'll just pick something up on the way over." She sniffed the air. "Your dinner smells good, though."

"I have enough if you'd like to stay," Regina offered. "It'll be better for you both than frozen pizzas."

"But then I'd owe you two dinners, and there's only one new restaurant. Although I suppose I could make something."

Regina said, "That'll be the day."

Emma blinked. "You do know I can cook, right?"

Regina folded her arms. "Oh?"

Emma mirrored her stance. "Yeah, I can. I just don't like to."

Regina gave Emma her most skeptical look. "Prove it."

"Okay. How about I cook dinner for you next week and if you're pleasantly surprised, you'll come to the Sheriff's office with donuts—and eat one with me—every day for a week."

That was not going to happen. "And if I'm not satisfied, you'll take lessons from Marjorie until I'm certain you're not giving Henry scurvy." She was pretty sure she could pay Marjorie enough to entice her to take on a student—even if the student was Emma Swan.

Henry, who had given up trying to scroll through Facebook to watch them with interest, said, "What constitutes 'pleasantly surprised?"

Regina sniffed. "If I don't get food poisoning from it, I'll be more than impressed enough."

Emma laughed. "That seems much too generous a standard. I think I can do a bit better than that. How about… Henry decides if you're being fair? He'll tell the truth if it sucks."

"Oh, no," Henry said. "I'm not getting involved in this."

Regina held up a hand. "I won't expect _boudin noir aux pommes_ and I promise I'll be as impartial as I can be."

Emma shrugged. "Good enough for me."

Regina was pleased. Getting Emma to make decent food for Henry once in a while would be nice. She said, "Well, since you're going to be cooking for me, you'll stay for dinner tonight. And that way, Henry doesn't have to move his masterpiece."

Emma took one look at the foam devastation in the living room and said, "That's… a good plan."

Dinner was simple lemon herb chicken with rice and broccoli, but the wine she'd intended to open anyway was very good and conversation flowed freely between the three of them. After Henry excused himself to finish his project, Regina and Emma moved to the study, Emma curling up on the loveseat and Regina taking one of the chairs.

They alternated between chatting and, in Regina's case, reading a book or in Emma's, scrolling through Instagram on her phone—there was apparently quite the Storybrooke community on there. Occasionally, Emma showed her pictures she thought Regina would like. She was right more often than not, although Regina uniformly rolled her eyes and shook her head—well, except for the dog pictures, which were almost always cute. And someone had taken a stunning picture of a horse in the early dawn that Regina made Emma like even though Emma complained that now people were going to think she was a horse girl.

By the time Henry was done with his project—and Regina didn't know how but he'd managed to make it look like an actual piece of art—Emma had her legs over the arm of the loveseat and Regina was curled up in her chair, heels discarded and kicked underneath.

Regina feeling wistful and slightly maudlin, watched Henry pack up. Henry already stayed with her most of the time, and she didn't want to make him feel guilty about choosing to stay with Emma now and again, but she missed him when he was gone.

"You want to stay here tonight, kid?" Emma said. "That way you won't have to try moving that thing while it dries."

Henry shrugged. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. It's a shorter walk to school from here, too. Mom?"

Regina smiled. "Of course." She glanced at Emma, who returned her smile before swinging her feet down to the floor and standing with with a yawn.

"I should go," she said. "Night, kid."

"Night," Henry said, letting Emma hug him before he turned to go upstairs.

Emma sighed as she watched him go. Regina uncurled from her own chair and stood, and the two of them made their way to her front door.

"I'll pick you up Friday," Emma said. "What time?" She reached down and slipped on the sneakers she'd worn over tonight without bothering to lace them.

"Six thirty?" Regina said.

"It's a date," Emma said, yawning.

"Well, you are paying," Regina said.

"Yeah, yeah." Emma opened the door. "But I'm going to win that bet and the donuts."

"In your dreams."

Emma just chuckled and said, "Night, Regina."

"Goodnight, Emma." Regina closed the door and went upstairs to say goodnight to her son.

On Friday, without knowing quite why, Regina changed from her perfectly decent pencil skirt and blouse combo into a colorblock dress that she hadn't worn much before. It was slightly too informal for work and too dressy for weekends, but she figured she might as well get some use out of it. It was also low-cut enough that she she anticipated some good sidelong glances from people tonight.

Emma, for once, was right on time, and she even parked her car properly before coming to the door to get her instead of texting that she was waiting like she normally did. She was wearing black slacks and a turquoise blouse Regina liked, and her hair was at full volume, loose and curly.

"You look nice," Regina said, feeling better about her dress. At least she wouldn't look too overdressed in comparison—not that it would've bothered her.

Emma said, "Thanks." She gave Regina's dress a look, lingering one extra beat on the extremely low-cut neckline. "You too."

Regina smirked, aware of precisely how she looked but happy to hear it anyway. "Thank you." She motioned to the door. "Shall we?"

Marjorie's place was anything but pretentious—it had a homey charm that was about as far from Regina's own aesthetic as possible: all warm candlelight and weathered wood. Each table was slightly different from the next, but they fit into the space seamlessly, providing each group with the illusion of privacy. It was busy, but the acoustics were good and the noise was a hum instead of a roar.

When they were seated and the host had let them know their server would be by shortly, Emma leaned in and whistled quietly. "This place is cute."

"Wait until you try the food. Marjorie would never have opened this place if she wasn't completely satisfied about her ability to deliver."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "High praise."

"Well-deserved, I assure you." Regina sat back as the server approached, letting Emma take the lead in selecting both an appetizer and wine. Emma had a knack for wine, and Regina was more than happy to let her show off when the results were so exquisite.

Each course was delectable: well-balanced, the perfect temperature, and presented with the flair Regina remembered. Regina tasted flavors that she hadn't had for decades and found herself savoring each bite. She opened her eyes after the last bite of her entree to find Emma gazing at her, head in her hand and smiling.

"I don't think I've ever enjoyed any meal as much as you're enjoying this one," Emma said.

Regina dabbed her lips with her napkin. "There are very few things about my former life I truly miss, but the food was one of them."

"Couldn't you have, you know, built it into the curse?"

Regina shrugged. "I didn't give the cuisine any thought at the time. Too busy cursing my enemies to mediocre lives in a small coastal town in Maine."

Emma smiled. "Too bad you didn't realize you were cursing yourself, too."

Regina took another bite and thought about that statement. She swallowed and said, "Honestly, those twenty-eight years were the best thing to happen to me."

Emma raised her brows. "Really?"

"In some ways. For the first time in my life, I was left totally alone. I had eighteen years before Henry, and I spent a lot of that time thinking, reading, watching terrible sitcoms…"

Emma laughed.

"Laugh, but those things showed me just how fucked up my life had been. And I had a lot of time to just be myself."

"And then Henry."

Regina smiled. "And then Henry."

Emma's head still rested on her hand, and she was looking at Regina with an odd expression.

"What?" Regina asked.

Emma took a breath, leaned forward, hesitated, and said, "Do you want dessert?"

It was obviously not what she'd planned to say. Regina frowned, but something about Emma's expression kept her from questioning her. It didn't quite look like an "I screwed up and need to confess so you can help me save the town from my own idiocy but I don't want to tell you" expression, so she said, "Only if we're getting the chocolate torte."

Emma leaned back, relaxed again. "Of course we're getting the chocolate torte. I'm not crazy."

The torte alone was worth the cost of the whole meal—although Emma refused to even let Regina see the check, apparently serious about it being her treat.

The car was quiet on the way back to Regina's house. Regina felt full and content. It was one of the few wholly pleasant evenings she'd had recently that hadn't involved being at home with Henry—or Emma and Henry—and she found herself wishing it wasn't quite over.

"Do you want to come in for a while?" she asked as they pulled up to her house. "I have a good brandy that I've been waiting to open."

Emma hesitated. "It's pretty late," she said. "I have the morning shift tomorrow."

"Ah," Regina said, unaccountably disappointed.

"Rain check?" Emma asked hopefully.

"Sure," Regina said. She put her hand on the doorknob. "This was… really nice."

Emma grinned. "You're welcome. Although I really should have cooked for you first, because if you think you're getting anything close to tonight's meal, I might as well throw in the towel now."

"Oh, I doubt you stood a chance anyway. Excellent wine selection can only elevate tater tots so far."

Emma just laughed. "If you're expecting tater tots, I might have a chance."

"We'll see," Regina said. She opened her door. "Let me know when you're ready to be found wanting."

"I look forward to making you eat your words," Emma said, grinning at her pun. "I'll call you to figure out the day."

"Until then," Regina said, getting out and shutting the car door behind her. Emma waited until she'd opened the front door, giving her a wave as she drove off.

As Regina prepared for bed that night she was surprised to see a small smile on her face—but then, the food had been very good.

Emma had called her Monday to set up their dinner for Friday, since she'd get off work a little early that day and could have extra time to prepare. Regina graciously allowed her the advantage and texted Henry to let him know she'd be at Emma's that night. He replied quickly (and during school hours) that he was glad she let him know when he could throw his big party.

Regina rolled her eyes, sent back a message that said _I see Emma's sense of humor is rubbing off on you_ , and got back a laughing smiley face in response.

The rest of the week passed with no real emergencies but plenty of committee meetings and one-on-one appointments with business owners who were all vying for more free parking or more landscaping or fewer nuns passing by the White Rabbit and "putting off the customers"—none of which Regina could do anything about but all of which came from people she took pleasure in shooting down.

Still, by the end of the week, Regina was looking forward to dinner and to rubbing in her victory. There was no way Emma would win this bet—Regina, for all that she intended to be fair and impartial in the actual judging, had seen no evidence thus far of culinary competence from Emma. Even if she could _plan_ a decent meal, she'd get nervous or something would go wrong. Regina half expected the whole thing to be a disaster that ended in them getting pizza.

Regina followed Emma's instructions and dressed down in jeans and a blue button-down top, showing up at Emma's apartment precisely at six o'clock.

Emma answered the door looking slightly flushed but obviously not yet ready to concede defeat. She was in jeans and a thin green cotton shirt Regina didn't remember and had her hair pulled back, tendrils escaping to lie against her neck.

"Perfect timing," Emma said, in a tone that made it clear she knew Regina was on time in the hopes of catching her running behind. "Would you like some wine?"

"That would be lovely," Regina said.

Emma grinned. "Great. Let me take your coat." She stepped behind Regina, so she probably didn't notice Regina's surprise at the gesture, but she couldn't have failed to notice Regina tense as she took hold of the collar and slid the coat off.

"Excuse me," Emma said, and Regina stepped to the side without a single thought in her head, only vaguely aware that Emma hung her coat in the closet before moving around her toward the kitchen. She wasn't sure why the gesture threw her off, but it seemed odd coming from Emma, who was more the "throw your jacket over a chair" type.

Emma came back a minute later with a glass of wine and Regina had collected herself enough to accept it—she was thinking about it too much, really—and take a sip.

Emma looked at her expectantly and Regina said, "I already know you can pick wine." This seemed to satisfy Emma, who smiled and gestured toward the table.

"Everything's almost ready, so go ahead and take a seat. I just have this last thing to do and then we'll be set until dessert."

There was a sizzle as Emma put something into a pan, and Regina sat down where she could see Emma working in the kitchen, although she couldn't see what she was making. It wasn't the first time Regina had been in Emma's apartment. It was a tiny two-bedroom place, with a kitchen that looked out onto a small table tucked into the corner of the living room. It wasn't as dire as Regina had initially expected; there wasn't a lot of natural light, but Emma had used lamps and warm colors to turn that lack into a feature. The space managed to look cozy and inviting without mimicking Snow's insipidly pastel loft.

In fact, the kitchen was the only part of Emma's place that looked bland and disused—a factor in Regina's disbelief in Emma's cooking prowess. Despite this, Regina's faith in her victory was shaken. When she'd first stepped through the door, she'd noticed a pleasant combination of aromas, including fresh bread. The table was set simply but nicely, Emma having gone so far as to get a short bouquet of flowers flanked by tealight candles for a centerpiece.

"I didn't know I was grading on presentation, too," Regina said.

"Henry told me there are studies proving that people enjoy food more if the setting looks fancy," Emma said. "I think he thought I needed every advantage I could get." She frowned in concentration, reached to adjust the heat on the stove, and said, "Tell me about your week."

Regina told her about the White Rabbit's owner getting upset about how many nuns walked by his place and presenting her with a notebook detailing which ones were the "worst offenders."

"I pointed out that the bar is between the church and the grocery store, and nuns have to eat, too," Regina said.

Emma chuckled. "What did he do then?"

"Oh, he said that he was sure we could find ways to dissuade them from walking by his place." Regina glowered as she thought of the presumption he'd had to include her as a co-conspirator.

"'We'?" Emma said.

"Oh, yes. So I told him that I was sure that what he meant was that he was going to repair the sidewalk in front of his fine establishment like he had been promising for the last two years. That would mean, unfortunately, that people wishing to walk down that street would have to use the other side for a week or so. And then I may have said I'd hold onto the notebook for safekeeping—after all, if anyone tripped on the cracked cement in front of his bar, a book detailing the habits of the nuns might look suspicious."

Emma laughed. "I would have loved to see his face. No, wait. I would have loved to see your face. I bet you were just radiating smug satisfaction. God, that look," she said, sounding almost wistful. "It's so great… when it's not directed at me."

Regina never blushed, but she did feel her face grow a little warm. "Yes, well," she said, and took another sip of her wine.

Emma shut off the stove and, after a short flurry of activity, brought out two small plates of a delicate-looking salad. She set both down and then retrieved two more plates from the kitchen. She set one down in front of Regina and one at her own place just to Regina's right and sat down.

"Scallops with snow peas and couscous, and a side salad with cranberry-citrus vinaigrette. Oh, and fresh sourdough bread, of course."

If they had been grading on presentation, Regina would already have lost the bet. The scallops looked like they were cooked to perfection while the peas looked done but still crisp. Still, following a recipe that looked nice was one thing—

Regina sampled everything while Emma waited, not looking the slightest bit worried. Regina considered screwing with Emma but didn't think it would work; Emma knew she had her.

"Fine," Regina said finally. "A week of donuts."

Emma grinned. "Make sure to get a good variety," she said.

Regina would have made a token protest but she decided to eat before it got cold.

"Tell me how you learned to cook," she said before digging into her salad.

Emma shrugged. "I was stuck in an apartment for a while during a blizzard with the cooking channel and a grocery store downstairs. Pretty much anyone can follow a recipe; it's timing everything that's a nightmare. So I figured out that you did everything ahead you could, and then you practiced until you knew what you were doing enough to cut corners." She took a bite of her own salad, chewed, and swallowed. "I'm not inventive, I get stressed out when cooking for other people, and I don't get any real pleasure out of cooking for myself, so I don't do it. But I can—and I do occasionally make real food for Henry," she added, giving Regina a sly look out of the corner of her eye.

Regina didn't acknowledge the hit, but took a leisurely sip of wine before saying, "I burned everything I tried at first. It was awful. I ate at Granny's for a month before I couldn't face another salad with grilled chicken and forced myself to learn." She looked down at her plate and added, "I like… taking care of a basic necessity like that. It feels like it's something I learned just for myself."

Emma didn't respond right away. When Regina finally looked up, Emma wasn't looking at her with the pity she almost expected. Instead, she was smiling softly, twirling her fork absentmindedly on her plate.

"What?" Regina asked.

Emma shook her head. "It's just… can you believe how far we've come?" She leaned forward and said, "I couldn't have imagined talking like this with you when we first met."

Regina raised an eyebrow. "You were too busy slinging false allegations of fraud right and left."

"Allegations based on evidence you planted!" Emma said, her relaxed posture belying her offended tone.

Regina snorted. "If I'd known you better, I would have invited you to go to Henry's next parent-teacher conference and recommended a good real estate agent."

"I would have run back to Boston without finishing my drink, wolf be damned," Emma said.

"Exactly," Regina said. "But… I'm actually glad you didn't."

Emma looked remarkably pleased at that.

"Oh, don't let it go to your head," Regina said. "You were still insufferable."

"But that's in the top five nicest things you've ever said to me!" Emma said.

"Please tell me you don't have a list," Regina said.

Emma hesitated just a moment too long.

"Oh no. You have a list?" Regina said.

"No! Well, not a list, but I guess a… category."

"Of the nice things I've said to you?"

"No! Sort of. Maybe. Okay, yes, but it's not—look—"

But Regina was too busy laughing to let her finish. Emma looked grumpier the longer she laughed, which only made her laugh harder.

Finally, Emma said, "If you keep laughing, you're not getting dessert."

Regina knew the threat was serious and got ahold of herself. She did not apologize, but instead took a bite of her meal, using her expression to dare Emma to dig herself in deeper.

Emma ignored the bait—it seemed she could learn from experience, after all—and set to finishing her own plate. They didn't speak, but the silence felt pleasant, and the wine made Regina relax into her chair, letting herself enjoy a peaceful moment.

When they'd both finished, Emma stood and took their plates. "I made this fruit thing for dessert. I forget what it's called, but you'll like it, It's almost healthy." She set the plates in the kitchen and opened the fridge. "One of the kids at the group home made it for us, and then he taught me because I liked it so much."

Emma grabbed something from the fridge and straightened, but as she turned to shut the fridge door, she overbalanced and stumbled. Something crashed to the floor and Regina heard glass shattering while Emma caught herself on the counter.

"Damn it," Emma said. She bent over and picked up most of a glass bowl with what looked like the remains of some kind of custard. "I think just the bottom part broke, but there's glass all over."

"Stay there," Regina said. She got up and said, "Where's your broom?"

"Couldn't you use magic?"

"If you want a face-full of glass shards, sure," Regina said.

"Hall closet," Emma said, wincing. "But I can get it."

Regina shook her head. "You're not wearing shoes."

She found the closet, opened it, and wrestled a mop, clothing rack, and... rake? back inside before acquiring the broom and dustpan. She came back to the kitchen and carefully started sweeping, starting around Emma's feet and moving back toward the hall.

When she was done, Emma said, "Okay, I'll just—"

"Wait," Regina said. She took a paper towel and got it damp before bending down and running it over Emma's feet. Emma jerked and Regina looked up, grinning. "Sorry," she said, completely unrepentant. "Henry broke a glass once and he walked away before I got it all and ended up with tiny slivers in his feet."

She wiped down the floor between where Emma stood and the hall as quickly as she could. Standing, she showed Emma the minute shards embedded in the towel. "You should probably wipe it down again later."

"Yeah," Emma said, her voice rough. "Sure. Thanks."

Regina leaned around Emma to put the paper towel in the trash can under the sink. Emma only moved when the cabinet door brushed the back of her legs.

"You okay?" Regina asked, concerned.

"Fine," Emma said quickly. She looked at the counter. "Well, at least you still have your dessert," she said.

Regina had all but forgotten. "Oh," she said. It looked delicious—a layer of custard with some kind of… fruit layer, and some berries on top. She glanced at Emma, who was looking at her, then at the mess of glass and custard still in the sink.

"We'll just have to share," Regina said. She grabbed the bowl and walked back to the table.

"Oh, that's—"

"I insist," Regina said.

Emma followed silently, dropping into her chair as if the last few minutes had seen them fighting ogres and not cleaning up a few pieces of glass.

Regina took a spoon and the first bite. It was good—sweet and creamy with a tartness that kept it from being too much. Not anything as decadent as the chocolate torte, but it went well with the lighter meal they'd had tonight. In fact, Regina was impressed that Emma had made a meal more like what she'd make herself and not some heavy casserole or pot roast with potatoes.

"Come on, Emma," she said, taking another spoonful, "if you don't dig in, I'll have to eat it all myself." She grinned before putting the spoon in her mouth, savoring the taste. Emma finally dipped her spoon into the dessert—Regina had never known Emma to hesitate around sweets before—and brought it to her mouth, her eyes fluttering closed for a second as it hit her tongue.

Time stopped.

Regina found herself without air, frozen as she watched the column of Emma's throat as Emma swallowed. She felt the rush of her blood as her heartbeat picked up, the sudden chill as if someone had breathed on her neck.

She invited Emma over for dinner all the time, made extra just in case she stayed. She dressed up to go to Marjorie's with Emma. She was oddly proud of Emma winning this bet. She was staring at Emma. Emma. Who was any moment now going to open her eyes and look at Regina and _see_ —

She shook her head and blinked and managed to get herself under control before Emma opened her eyes, but she barely remembered the rest of the night. They talked about something, she knew, but mostly she remembered feeling Emma's leg pressed against her own, Emma's lips closing around each bite, Emma's eyes sparkling as she laughed.

It was all Regina could do to keep talking normally, pretending like everything was still the same as it had been just moments before.

When she left, far too early and not nearly soon enough, Emma helped her into her coat again and this time Regina felt every point of contact between them as if she was on fire. Regina left and stood on Emma's porch for half a minute, just breathing until it seemed like the cool night air cleared her mind enough to drive home.

The weekend was a total loss. Henry had a history report due Monday, so he spent a lot of time on the computer, and Regina spent a lot of time staring out the window, her thoughts veering between a panicked denial (she was seeing things, feeling things, wanting things that weren't there) and a consuming, crushing hope.

Monday morning, she woke up early, a single thought running through her mind: she was in love with Emma Swan.

In a daze, she climbed out of bed to get ready and was waiting outside the bakery when it opened. She got a half-dozen donuts, picking at random by pointing, her heart beating loudly as the baker handed her the box and she paid.

She walked to the sheriff's office, the steady sound of her footstep reassuring. By the time she walked down the hall, she had almost convinced herself to act normal, to not ruin anything, to eat her damn donut and escape to her office. She rounded the corner, and Emma looked up, already smiling, and Regina halted. She had the wild urge to throw the box at Emma's head and flee.

"Hey," Emma said. "You didn't have to come so early, you know—"

Regina took a faltering step forward.

Emma frowned. "Are you okay?" She came around the desk. Regina searched her face, but there was no sign of anything but a mild concern.

"Here," Emma said, taking the box of donuts and setting it down on the desk behind her. "I think you should sit down—you don't look too good."

"Emma," Regina said, and couldn't go on.

Emma looked back, and then her eyes widened. "Oh my god," she said, and Regina knew she knew. She didn't know what she expected to happen next, but it wasn't Emma taking her arm and leading her to the nearest chair.

Regina sank into it, utterly bewildered.

"Okay," Emma said, wringing her hands. "Just… one sec." She hurried toward the water cooler and came back with a paper cup of water, which she handed to Regina. They both stared at it. "I'm not sure why I did that," Emma said. She perched on the desk facing Regina, leaning forward onto hands that gripped the edge of the desk tightly. "Okay," she said again, "First of all, I'm a coward and second of all, I really didn't mean to drag this out like this."

Regina blinked at her.

Emma laughed nervously. "I mean, I was planning to tell you at Marjorie's, but I chickened out—and then I broke that stupid bowl and I was just so thrown by everything that I didn't say anything that night, either, and now here you are and you obviously figured it out."

If anything, Regina was more lost than ever.

"You have every right to be upset," Emma continued.

Regina had every right to be upset? What was Emma talking about?

"I just figured I'd tell you today. I'm so sorry. I really wasn't trying to trick you into dating me."

Regina seemed to hear the echo of Emma's words in the silent room. She stared at Emma. Emma stared back, an expression of dawning horror on her face.

"You didn't know," Emma said.

"I—"

"Oh my god," Emma said, "you didn't know and something else is wrong. What happened? Is it Henry? Is someone dead?"

Regina shook her head mutely, trying to wrap her head around what was going on. Emma took another breath as if to speak and Regina held up a hand and Emma subsided. Regina shut her eyes, trying desperately to make sense of this.

"Let me see if I understand," Regina said finally, opening her eyes to find a miserable-looking Emma slumped in front of her. She'd never looked more like Snow than in this instant, and Regina wasn't sure she wanted to think about how endearing she found that. "You… wanted to ask me out."

Emma bit her lip and nodded.

"And you took me on not one but two dates," Regina said.

Emma nodded again.

"Without telling me," Regina said.

Emma hesitated, but nodded again.

Regina very carefully set the cup of water to the side and stood up. "You should have told me," Regina said. She stepped right into Emma's personal space, until their legs were touching and Emma was looking up at her. "I spent a lot of time this weekend worrying over _nothing_."

Regina placed her hands on the desk on either side of Emma's legs and leaned over her, watching Emma eyes dart back and forth, waiting for the moment—

Emma's eyes snapped to hers, and Regina smiled, flicking her eyes deliberately to Emma's lips.

Emma, who despite whole truckloads of evidence to the contrary was no fool, straightened her spine and closed the gap.

For a second, it was a rather chaste kiss, and then Emma nipped at Regina's lower lip with her teeth and Regina drew in a tiny gasp. Emma pulled at her lapel and Regina let go of the desk to balance against her. It was an unwieldy height, but Emma held them both upright and still managed to keep kissing her.

Regina could not get enough—she slid her hands down to Emma's hips and pulled her to the very edge of the desk, so now their bodies were pressed together as closely as possible—although she cursed the fact she was still wearing her heavy wool coat.

She vaguely registered the sound of the front door, but she honestly didn't care if a mob was about to overrun the sheriff's office as long as she could keep kissing Emma. Emma seemed to agree, judging by the way she was kissing her back, her hands sliding around Regina's shoulders and neck and into her hair.

"Good morn—" There was a loud thud.

Emma jerked back. "Dad?"

Regina was facing the wrong way to see David, but she didn't turn right away, instead admiring Emma's blush and slightly swollen lips, the way her eyes were still slightly unfocused but widening in shock and guilt.

Regina hooked a leg discreetly around one of Emma's before turning. David's face was even better than she'd dared hoped—disbelief and horror waging battle against exhaustion.

"Good morning, David," she drawled. "Late night?"

Emma poked her, which Regina ignored in favor of savoring every second of this.

"What?"

"You look tired," Regina said, so, so innocently. "Baby Neal not sleeping through the night yet?"

"Uh…" David said, his gaze darting between the two of them. "No, he had a nightmare." He lifted a finger. "Were you—" he stopped abruptly, apparently not sure he wanted the answer. "I need coffee."

"I can make a fresh pot," Emma offered, moving as if to disentangle herself from Regina. Regina did not move back to let Emma get off the desk; she was not about to let Emma get away now After a second, Emma stopped struggling to stand up.

David gave them one last look before backing up to the hallway. "No, no. That's okay. I'll just… go. Get some. Coffee! I'll get some coffee from Granny's. And then I'll come back. So… I'll be gone. For five—ten! minutes. Ten minutes," he said, firmly, before he ducked back into the hall and was gone.

A few seconds later, the door opened and closed with its characteristic squeak, and Regina turned back toward Emma, who was obviously struggling to decide whether to be horrified or break into hysterical giggles.

"That was worth five _weeks_ of donuts," Regina said. "I can't wait to tell Snow."

"Oh my god," Emma said. She put her hands over her face. "Oh my god, that was not—."

"I think we should take a video of it, actually," Regina said. She was in one of the best moods of her life.

"Regina!" Emma said.

"What? Oh, come on, you had to know they'd find out eventually if your plan succeeded, right?"

"I wasn't planning on ambushing them the day we started dating—okay, you know what I meant," Emma said, forestalling Regina's comment with a look. "I just started laying the groundwork for me being bi a few weeks ago!"

Regina waved a hand. "Oh, don't worry about that. Snow didn't bat an eye when she found out about Ruby."

"Well, yeah, but sometimes people react differently when it's their kid—"

Regina kissed Emma, and it was just as good as before, or better, because now there was nothing uncertain about it.

Emma brought her hands to Regina's shoulders and pushed her away. She said, "You're not recording that conversation," and pulled Regina back down to her.

Regina didn't waste breath arguing. They only had another eight minutes before David returned, and she wanted to make them count. Besides, she was pretty sure there would be time to convince Emma later.


End file.
